


Bird's nest

by olandesevolante



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olandesevolante/pseuds/olandesevolante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ander leaves the team and Iker is not sure that Ander didn’t leave him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird's nest

**Author's Note:**

> -I’m not sure this makes sense; when I plotted it, it made sense, but then I’m not sure I was able to write what I had in mind.  
> -English is not my first language and every mistake is mine

  
_The bird which is a bird  
If I had cut the wings to her  
She would have been mine  
She would not be flees  
But, thus  
She would not have been anymore a bird  
And me...it's the bird which I loved_  
_-Txoria txori, Joxean Artze_  


  
  
  
  
Iker has never expected Ander to stay in Bilbao forever.  
Actually, Ander himself has never said he would have done it. He liked playing there, he learnt to love the team and his teammates too, and the supporters, and the stadium, and the city. But even with all this, his heart has never truly belonged there. He’s not grown up in Lezama, he doesn’t think that it’s better to end the season without trophies but with Athletic’s crest on the chest than to have everything playing for another team, to have to cry because of the losses instead of celebrating with another team. In Iker’s mind, this isn’t even a possibility.  
Iker knew that this moment had to come, it has been a year since he started knowing it. He had one year more to spend with Ander in Bilbao because the transfer didn’t happen at the time it was supposed to happen, but even if during the season it has been easy enough to forget what was going to happen (Ander made it easy enough, with his cheeky smiles, and his kisses, and basically everything he did), as soon as the last match ended, Iker has started feeling something in his lungs every time he thought of Ander, something heavy that didn’t left him breathe well.  
  
Iker has never expected Ander to stay, but he hoped, in some hidden corner of his heart, that he himself could be a reason big enough for Ander to forget about Manchester United and trophies. It hadn’t worked, and Iker feels stupid for having really believed in it.  
  
\-----  
  
This feels a lot like the story of the birds, that at some point are always going to leave their nest. Iker feels like their mother when he thinks of Ander; he has always known that he would have left, but this doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt. Still, it’s the nature of things, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.  
  
\-----  
  
«It won’t change anything, you know», murmurs Ander while his eyes search and find Iker’s ones. Linked. What Iker can see in them, is the absolute honesty that is making Ander saying those things, he can read in those words that Ander really believes what his mouth has just said, and he’s not sure how this makes him feel.  
«You know it can’t be the same, Ander. It will be likely impossible to lay here on your bed like this, since we will be in two different countries. Or to spend a night together, in general, or to have lunch together, or watch a movie when we want. Basically, to spend time together». Iker didn’t want to be harsh with his reply, but it turned out he has been, or, at least, it is what Ander’s face suggests.  
They just lay for some minutes together, in silence, Ander fidgeting with the hem of the sheet and Iker who can’t stop following the movements of his fingers, just as a cat that follows a butterfly trapped in a room.  
Then, Iker can’t stand the situation anymore, and grabs the hand he was looking at, entwining their fingers, and Ander just lets him.  
«Look, I didn’t want to sound harsh or make you feel guilty, it’s just that... I’ll miss you, I’ll fucking miss every little thing I’m used to do with you every day and it will be horrible to know that I won’t train with you and that I’ll have to do my laps with someone else».  
«I’m sorry», says Ander, and Iker knows he isn’t lying. It’s somehow heartbreaking to see the guilt on his face. Ander has that effect on him, he makes Iker feel bad when he is sad.  
«Don’t. You’re going to live your dream and I’ll be happy because you’ll be happy for sure there. I just need to accept this new situation. And the fact that you won’t make my breakfast anymore». Iker makes an attempt at lighting the situation.  
Ander doesn’t answer; instead, he brings their hands to his mouth and kisses Iker’s knuckles one by one, then he leans over and kisses Iker on his mouth, slow and deep, as if he’s trying to fix every moment in his mind to bring them with him in England.  
On the desk there is the plane ticket that is going to bring Ander away tomorrow, and in the room there isn’t almost anything left –the sheets around their bodies, the clothes Ander will wear during the trip, and some stuff Iker has left there during the months (the years) and that now is time to bring back home. Iker decides to ignore all of this, to ignore everything that is shouting that Ander is leaving (especially, that he is leaving Bilbao, and not him) and he focuses just on the sensation of Ander’s lips on his, of the ghost of his hands that are caressing softly his bare chest. He lets Ander making him forget everything one time more.  
  
As he hears Ander snoring right next to his ear, Iker lets out a sight and hopes it will all be good in the end.  
  
\-----  
  
«And for everything you will need, just call me, yeah? Even if you just feel homesick and you want to hear something in Spanish. Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem at all for me».  
Juan’s kindness is beyond overwhelming, he offers his help even before the Basque can say a word. Ander has always liked him, since the first time they played together for  _la Rojita_ , and he is glad to know he will be one of his teammates. It’s simply impossible not to love him, this man with a passion for giving warm hugs and hipster things. He has already promised to show Ander every little angle he likes of Manchester. (David had rolled his eyes at the sentence, being the one who had to follow Juan for the last 6 months in every street the midfielder thought there could be something interesting, and thanked the new midfielder for being the new best friend for this kind of things. Juan pouted).  
They’ve always had a good understanding on the pitch, and surely they both want to replicate it even in England; and Juan knows that his friend should be feeling at home to have him at his best.  
  
Ander doesn’t miss how Juan’s smile is warmer when it’s directed to David, or how the goalkeeper lingers some seconds too much with his hands over Juan’s arms while they’re chatting, or simply just how they can’t stay away from each other during the day, how they always search for each other’s eyes during training sessions. He can’t miss these things, he is used at having them with Iker.  
Ander is genuinely happy for Juan. His good friend deserves all the good things in the world, of this he is sure.  
  
He likes it, his new life in Manchester, his renewed friendship with Juan, the time he spends with the other players of the team, the new side of David he is getting to know better every day. The club is buying a lot of Spanish speakers, so his not great skills at talking in English aren’t really a great problem – but he hates it, that when he makes an interview he stumbles over words and he can hear the grammar rules he is breaking, but he can’t do anything to erase what he has just said.  
  
His first match, though, is another story. Putting on that new shirt doesn’t feel right, Ander expected to find in the dressing room the red and white stripes he wore during the last years, and feels a kind of lump in his throat at the lack of white, at the difference in everything he can sense there.  
He hopes no one does notice his hesitation as he picks it up and looks at it, at the name on the back (Ander Herrera, he decided to keep all his name because it brought him luck in the past and who is him to say no to some luck?), at his 21, his new 21 that replaces his 8, and it’s all the same and all different at the same moment, it makes his head spin for some seconds. It’s always football and it’s not anymore the football he has always known.  
«Just put it on», whispers Juan, next to him. He already has his on his chest. «Everything will stop as soon as you’ll be wearing it», adds, and then gives him a brief hug, but that warms Ander enough to end that moment of  _impasse_. He wonders if it has been the same for Juan, if playing for two rival teams has somehow made his decisions more difficult. He sees how David brushes something away from his face and the way Juan looks at him during the process, and he thinks that even if it has been difficult, he had a great helper by his side.  
He puts his jersey on and for a brief moment he feels like a traitor. Behind his closed eyelids there is Iker’s face, and his smile, and the joke he’d for sure made if he was there because of his hesitations.  
When he opens them, there is just him and his new future. Ander smiles; there is no time to look back at his past, not now, and he feels like he has finally overcome that heavy sensation that he was carrying on his chest since he has last seen Bilbao.  
  
\-----  
  
_From: Ander_  
_You are great, everyone of you. You deserve to play in this Champions League._  
_I love you._  
  
«Leave that phone for a minute, Iker, we’re in the fucking Champions League! I’m sure your lovebird can wait till tomorrow to hear you!», shouts Aymeric while Iker is reading the message. The dressing room is a mess of things and people discarded everywhere, and no one could care less. They’re all drunk on happiness, they’re going to play in the most important European tournament and there isn’t a thing different from this on all of their minds.  
Next to him, Ander laughs and pokes the defender in the ribs. «Leave him alone for some minutes, will you? We have all night to celebrate, it won’t be a problem if you can’t talk to Iker for some minutes!».  
«Some minutes? Itu, you know how it will end, with Iker talking to the phone for an hour», whines Aymeric.  
«Then we’ll let him talk for an hour», says Ander just as Iker says, shocked: «I’ve never spent an hour talking to the phone!».  
Aymeric snorts. «Fine, but for the rest of the night I don’t want to see you with your phone», says then, and heads towards the showers, leaving Ander laughing on the bench and Iker looking at him in disbelief. Aymeric has never been this cheeky – or, at least, not with him; usually it has always been the opposite. Maybe he just never paid attention to this particularly aspect of the Frenchman.  
  
«I’m sorry», Iker says. He’s not, not really; he values his calls to Ander a lot more he thought he’d do before Ander left for Manchester, and he’s never thought that his behaviour could be annoying if seen by a different point of view. And even with all the happiness that is flooding through his veins right now, he wants to hear Ander; he wants to share his emotions with him.  
«Don’t be sorry because you’re happy, it’s the most stupid thing you can do», replies Ander and winks at him «Say hi to Ander from me, right?», he says, and then goes to the showers to reach Aymeric and start celebrating again.  
  
They never said it out loud in the dressing room, but they actually never needed to. Not because someone walked on them making out – that would have been embarrassing for sure -, but because they were so obvious to people that knew both of them, and especially in a team in which they all knew each other like they were brothers.  
They didn’t wanted to keep it secret to their friends, they’ve never thought about this matter. Their teammates just let them be together happily, and probably they were relieved that at some point they stopped just looking at each other thinking no one would notice it.  
  
\-----  
  
Ander gets trashed by MK Dons. It’s just the start of the season and the team is already on the front cover of every newspaper, described as a failure and a waste of money.  
That night, Iker stays up very late, talking with Ander on Skype and comforting him as best as he can. It’s not much, he knows, but it’s all that he can give to Ander at the moment.  
  
The season is hard, the Champions League is a dream but playing in it is an hell of a thing. No one expected it to be easy, but neither to be so hard to gain the three points. It hurts so much that they can’t grab a victory in the first games of this tournament, and it hurts even more because  _la Liga_  isn’t waiting for them to come back on Earth. It goes on leaving them back, and it comes a point when they all open their eyes and realize how close they are to the relegation zone.  
They can’t go on like this.  
  
\-----  
  
Iker looks at the screen, but it only shows a wardrobe and Ander’s left shoulder. He rolls his eyes.  
«Ander, I can’t see you, move that laptop», he whines.  
«What? But I haven’t moved it since the last time we talked, it can’t be possible!»  
«Ander, can you just turn it? I still prefer to see your face that your clothes», replies Iker, slightly annoyed, and the older complies, not without some technical difficulties – he succeeds in turning the conversation off twice, Iker wonders how is this even possible.  
«So, how are you?», asks Ander, his usual big smile drawn on his face.  
Iker is tempted, for some seconds, to just whine about everything, starting from football that at the moment is awful, he has never see his team so close to the bottom of the league and the thing is starting to really worry him. About the fear he has every seconds he comes closer to have a son. And of course, about how much he’d like at this moment to trace with his fingers his lips curved upwards and just forget about everything. But then, he knows, Ander wouldn’t be so cheerful and he doesn’t want this conversation too to be hard and painful, so he just says: «Fine, I can’t really complain. You?».  
Ander wants to reach out and hold him (why could Willy Wonka do this with food and he can’t with a person, this he would really like to know), because it’s so obvious that it’s not fine and that Iker wants to complain for hours, and he has every right to. But he doesn’t want to push him, so he just nods.  
  
It seems they can talk only about useless things now.  
  
\-----  
  
Iker doesn’t know anymore if it’s him who is missing Ander or the whole team who is missing their best midfielder. Probably, the race is only between who of them is missing Ander more. What he knows, is that he’d give everything at the moment to have Ander providing him an assist and then to run to him and celebrate like they always did on the pitch.  
  
\-----  
  
«I’ll have to buy another pack of sugar», says Ander, watching how much of it Iker is putting into his coffee. He forgot how much Iker likes sweets, and of course he can’t have his coffee in a way that isn’t ridiculously sweet.  
«What’s a pack of sugar if you can have me here at your new home?», replies Iker and pokes his tongue at him. Ander sighs, in a way that Iker can tell he’s just pretending he is annoyed. Iker gets up from the chair he was sit on and hugs him from behind.  
«Don’t try to buy me with this», says Ander, but he drops the pots he was using and intertwines his fingers with Iker’s.  The younger Basque, mouth against Ander’s back, laughs, and Ander feels shivers running all over his body. He is never going to have enough of Iker. «So, where do you want to go? I’m going to be your personal guide», adds then.  
But Iker lets their hands still intertwined wander over Ander’s chest. «I don’t think you really want to go somewhere...»  
«Don’t be such a devil», replies Ander, but he knows Iker is right. He doesn’t want to waste a single moment of this period he is going to have Iker here.  
«Well, Manchester isn’t going to fly away if we go back to your bedroom, no? I’m staying here until the 30th of December, there is no rush», says Iker and kisses the back of Ander’s neck, a thing that he knows will drive the older mad, and will change his plans of taking Iker out to see the city.  
«I agree», Ander tells Iker. «But on Christmas I’m going to take you in a restaurant out of here and-».  
Iker will discover only on Christmas day what’s so special in that place, because he sneaks his hands under Ander’s shirt and the midfielder can’t say anything else that isn’t related to Iker and to all the things that he wants to have with him in these Christmas holidays.  
  
There’s something wrong.  
It’s the fact that there always seems to be something between them, as if they’re finally together after months of Skype but for some reason they feel more distant now than on a screen. It’s the fact that when they talk they feel there is a line they can’t overstep, even if they don’t have quite understood what that line is and why it is there.  
It’s in the way Iker laughs and enjoys the Christmas dinner they finally have with David and Juan but in the while he can’t stop thinking about how different the things could have been – and it’s not that he doesn’t like the company of the other two Spaniards, it’s just the doubt that is eating him inside since the transfer was a done deal. It’s in the way Ander wants Iker so desperately to see how good his new life is here with his new and caring friends, and at the same time he doesn’t want Iker to feel in the second position in his own thoughts, but can’t find a way to explain this all to the younger.  
  
There’s something wrong and they both seem to know, but not Ander neither Iker have the courage to bring the issue on. They just decide to let this go on and hope the time and whatever will want to help them will fix the thing between them.  
  
\-----  
  
«Don’t you miss Bilbao?». It’s Darren who asks it and Ander knows he will miss his good friend that is leaving the team. Since the first days here, Darren has always been one of the most helpful people, always ready to make him laugh and to help him finding his position on the pitch when it seemed that everywhere was wrong. He feels a bit guilty, Ander thinks it is also his fault if Darren has to go away, because they play in the same role and at this point of the season it’s Ander who’s playing better there. But Darren has already told him to stop being idiot and to enjoy his time here. And to make Manchester United win again, of course; the Scot has made clear that his heart will never leave this place. Ander is starting to understand the effect this club makes on his players – you just can’t lose a match in a bad way, at home, having you supporters still chanting as if you’ve won it and not fell completely in love with it.  
  
And yes, the answer is yes, of course Ander misses Bilbao. He misses his family who stayed there after his transfer to Manchester United, he misses his old teammates, Ander and Aymeric and Andoni and everyone else, he misses the lights that made  _San Mamés_  shine like few other stadia in the world can – and he is playing for a team which has some of the greatest supporters in the world, but it’s not the same.  
Hell, he even misses the times Iker joked about the fact that he doesn’t speak Basque and tried to teach him something, and it always came out that Iker made him learn on purpose wrong things, just to have some fun during the training sessions.  
  
\-----  
  
«I don’t want to get used to this», whispers quietly Ander. It’s still dark outside and he doesn’t know why he woke up at this surely ungodly hour; he has never had trouble at sleeping, not even when he first arrived in Manchester and had to adapt himself to his new life.  
«What?», asks Iker, his voice still a raspy, sleepy one, without even opening his eyes.  
«You having to leave. I prefer it to hurt every time, so that I remember how much I miss you and how much I want to spend some time with you again. It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it?», asks then, and if Iker would have been a little more awake, he would swear Ander is being somehow shy and he’s embarrassed at saying out loud this.  
«You think too much», says Iker, and nuzzles his head in the crook of Ander’s neck. The older can’t bring himself to relax enough and sleep again, so he just listens to the steady breath of the younger, that is tickling him with his nose against the skin.  
  
The ride to the airport is quiet, maybe too quiet for someone like Iker, but they both don’t say anything about it. Ander keeps his arm around the little midfielder maybe some seconds too much, but Iker doesn’t complain at all.  
  
\-----  
  
Athletic loses everything against Torino, and Iker has never felt this bad. The fact is, they lost, but they lost at home, at their home, and this hurts a lot more than everything else. In September they were fighting for the Champions League, in March they get kicked out even from the Europa League.  
There’s something wicked in the idea of losing against an Italian team after having known the greatest competition winning against another Italian team.  
  
\-----  
  
It’s not that they were really looking forward to Easter – it’s not like Christmas, when Iker could spend some days away from the city and the team. And also, not now that Iker is a father (no one from can still believe it, that Iker, the eternal child, has a son now. No one even in the team can believe it, and probably neither their supporters, but it has happened for real).  
Surely they didn’t expect it to go like this.  
  
To be fair, Ander had hoped for a Saturday before Easter like the one he had. They won, he scored a goal, his Twitter notifications were going crazy because of all the supporters in love with him. He couldn’t have asked for more.  
What he couldn’t imagine at all was what came after. He returned home still high on happiness for his own game and headed towards his living room to see Athletic Bilbao playing. Nothing more than what he usually did. But after a few minutes – he didn’t make it in time to see all the match from the start – he had to see Iker, his Iker, falling unnaturally on the pitch and not getting up. Ander saw the expression on his face and felt a thousand shivers down his back. He knew Iker and he knew that this time there would have been nothing to laugh, he could see it clearly.  
Ander had the irrational thought of search for his phone and call him right there, but then he realized there wasn’t Iker on the other side of the call to answer him for sure. Then he decided he would have rang Itu, for sure his good friend Itu could calm him down. But Itu was playing. There was no one he could call, nothing he could do: he was away from Iker, in another country, and he couldn’t even jump on the first plane to Bilbao and reach him.  
  
Iker is overwhelmed by all the love that the football world is sending to him, but, frankly, he would have liven better without this moment. It has been nice, seeing that a lot of players found the time to give him a sign, to show that they care and that they wanted him back on the pitch as soon as possible, of course. But it would have been better if Iker could have stayed on that damned pitch, instead of moving on crutches and having a leg immobilized, so that it was difficult even to reach his own kitchen.  
He holds his som in his arms as he watches a match, and thinks that at least there is him to keep him pinned to the Earth.  
  
\-----  
  
When he wakes up it is all still blurred and he feels like throwing up. He knows this is just the effect of the anaesthesia, but he didn’t know it would be so much strong. At least, he still doesn’t feel anything from his leg – his friends have already warned him, that this is just because of the meds, but it is kind of nice. He doesn’t have to worry at least from it for the pain at the moment.  
Iker has to blink his eyes a couple of times before being able to recognize the two figures that are quietly chatting next to his bed.  
Andrea is there, of course – she has always been there, and Iker, even in this state, can’t help thinking that he has been very lucky to found her at such a young age. He couldn’t have wanted anything different from what she is, always.  She smiles softly at him as soon as she sees that Iker has woken up. What he didn’t expect to find, is Ander next to her side, his Ander, with his boyish smile and his cheeks a little red.  
«Iker, I’m glad you woke up before I had to go. How are you?», asks him his girlfriend, and Iker takes some seconds more than necessary before answering; he knows Andrea will blame it on the meds, but the truth is that Iker had some problems tearing his away from the presence of Ander there. Ander, from Manchester, just for him.  _Just for his injure, he has come in Bilbao just because of that_ , it’s what his mind say, but it is just the meds, that’s what Iker thinks.  
«Like one that has just got hit by a truck», answers with all the honesty he has, because that is exactly th best way to describe how he is feeling. Behind Andrea, Ander giggles, and there is nothing his head can say that will make Iker stop thinking that this is the most beautiful sound in the world.  
His girlfriend rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. «Ok, this means you’re good. I have to go, I left our son to my parents so that he wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital all this time, but I can’t leave him there all day long. But I’m glad that Ander is here to keep you company, at least I know you won’t be alone». She leans over and gives him a kiss on his forehead, then squeezes gently his arm before leaving the room. At the moment, Iker doesn’t even remember where she has to go, but he doesn’t really care.  
Ander waits until the door of the room is shut before talking. «So, how are you for real?».  
«I’m so doped that at first I thought you were Valverde. Oh, wait, you look like  _el Txingurri_ , don’t you?».  
«Shut up, it’s just because we both have brown hair.  Since you have all this jokes to say, I must assume you leg isn’t hurting».  
«It wasn’t a joke, you could be Valverde’s son. And my leg doesn’t hurt, but everything else is so heavy».  
Iker feels Ander’s hand caressing his arm and searching for his own; he lets him, because he can’t even do anything else.  
«You should sleep again, you don’t have to be awake while the meds are still making effect», tells him Ander, and still, even in this state, he doesn’t miss the affectionate note that his voice has. It always gives him a sensation of a warm and sweet state of mind. Home, basically.  
And Iker doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to ask Ander how did he got some free time to fly here, and if his team really let him go away, and if he will have some troubles because of this. But his body doesn’t think so, and he let his body get drown once again in a dreamless sleep, lulled by the comfort of Ander’s presence next to him.  
  
He wonders if Andrea knows, if she ever had some doubts about his strong friendship with Ander. She never says anything, but she is a clever woman. Iker thinks it is impossible she hasn’t guessed which is the kind of line that connects him and Ander.  
  
\-----  
  
Iker knows he should feel guilty, but he can’t. He has just woken up next to Ander and this makes him happy; they have shared a bed once again, for the first time in months, and even if his stupid leg and all the medicines actually didn’t let him do anything, having Ander sleeping here, an arm cast around his hips and his soft snoring next to his ear has been something too beautiful.  
Something he didn’t know he has missed so much, not until he had had Ander next to him again. If his leg isn’t hurting now, for sure there is something aching in his chest, something that is telling him how beautiful it would be to just lay there forever and forget about the distances, the crest on Ander’s chest, the wrong kind of red that he wears now, Skype and Internet when it doesn’t work well.  
Ander mumbles something and his hand clenches tighter on Iker’s hip.  
  
He knew this couldn’t last long. Iker tries to drown in the sensation of Ander. He won’t say it out loud (he can’t say it out loud), but he would like to tie Ander to the bed, to the home, to Bilbao and never let him go away for a second more.  
Maybe it’s just because of the medicines that he is thinking this.  
  
When he wakes up, he sees Ander walking barefoot in his room, putting on his shirt and smoothing his hair. His hand flies to the back of his jeans, to control if the wallet is still there.  
«You already have to go», mumbles Iker. It’s not a question, both of them know what the answer would be in any case.  
«Yeah. I promised the gaffer that I would be back for this afternoon, that I wouldn’t have skipped any training session», answers Ander, and reaches out to give a kiss on his front. «I’m sorry. I wish I could stay here more».  
Iker tears his gaze away, because suddenly he feels like crying, and he is not sure it is just that the leg is hurting a lot or that the medicines left him dizzy. «No, it’s right. You have your life there».  
«Iker, don’t. Hey, look at me», Ander moves his hand to grab Iker’s chin, but he snaps it away. «I could come here just because I told the gaffer this trip wouldn’t affect my preparation for the match, I can’t stay and I can’t do anything to change things. Even if I wish I could»  
«If you were wishing this so much, you could have just talked about it before. Or you know what, you could have just stayed instead of having to play for fucking Manchester United»  
«Iker, what’s-»  
«But no, you had to go and play with the superstars of the world, and surely you have to meet your damn Juan again, you understand each other so perfectly on the pitch, it’s fucking disgusting»  
Ander frowns. «Leave Juan out of whatever thing you’re trying to say. He has helped me a lot, and, yes, we play well together. I didn’t think it was something I had to be ashamed of though»  
«As if I couldn’t see how you look at each other!»  
«What?! Iker, you just can’t be serious. In case you’ve never noticed, Juan loves David. And I love you, end of the story».  
«Are you sure?»  
Ander punches the wall not to say the first reply that came to his mind. Iker finally looks at him, and he has never seen Ander so shocked and hurt. His face, his  _babyface_  that Iker likes to mock every day, now is showing more years than how Ander really is.  
«I like to think it is the pain that is making you talk and say thing like these. It’s better that I leave now», says Ander in such a cold tone that Iker has never heard before from him. He goes out of the room and the home without saying a word more.  
Iker feels really bad, but this time he is sure that the fault isn’t the leg.  
  
\-----  
  
Maybe, the problem is actually this.  
When Iker became a father, Ander wasn’t there.  
When he and Athletic qualified to Champions League, Ander wasn’t there, and neither he was when they got kicked out of it.  
When Iker had to witness the definitive fall of his team in San Mamés against Torino, so that they were out of the Europa League too, Ander wasn’t there, and Iker could only think of the last time losing a match in a European competition had hurt this much, when in 2010 they lost the final and he spent, for the first time, the night in Ander’s arms, who held him tighter every time he felt like crying once more.  
And Ander has always called him, of course. Ander was always caring, his body was in Manchester but for sure he left at least a little part of his heart in Bilbao, and every time something happened, Iker was sure that Ander would have called him, on the phone or on Skype, and they’d have spent hours talking until Iker could breathe without feeling pain anymore. Just, it isn’t the same. Ander in Bilbao would have meant an entire season different.  
Iker feels like there is something that doesn’t work anymore between them.  And what’s even worse, he doesn’t know at all what this something is. He just feels it.  
  
Ander didn’t grow up in Lezama, he’s never been bound to Athletic Bilbao like he is. Iker has always known it, but somehow the knowledge isn’t enough to keep the pain away.  
  
\-----  
  
The news that Andoni is going to leave the team at the end of the season shouldn’t be a shock – in June he’ll be 33, he has spent all his football life here and it’s more than normal that this moment had to happen. Still they’re all kind of shocked when he tells his teammates the news, that he is going to play in the US next season.  
  
«You can stay here one more season, and help us again», says Iker. Andoni has always played with him and he can’t imagine a match without him in the team. «I’m sure the president can give you another contract».  
But Andoni smiles, his heart warm because of the affection he feels in the words of Iker, and shakes his head. «It’s time for me to give up here».  
«You’re still one of the best and you shouldn’t... retire in the US. Your place is here»  
«I’m sure our supporters will be amazing in my last match here. But they are always amazing», replies Andoni, and for some seconds he looks lost in some thought, probably some memory of  _la Catedral_  full of people in  _rojiblanco_ , shouting at one of his goals, singing with their scarves held upon their heads. «And I have to leave my place to someone else, it’s time that someone else gets shivers on his skin playing for Athletic Bilbao. I’ve done enough for us».  
Iker doesn’t seem really convinced, he is sure that Andoni should retire here, just as Julen did, but he kows that nothing he will say change his idea, so he pulls the older Basque in a hug.  
«I’ll miss you, old man. It was always easy to drench you with snowballs, who is going to be my next target without you?», says Iker, and Andoni slaps gently his head but keeps the younger close to him.  
«I think Gurpe can be a good choice, but if he asks, I didn’t say a word».  
Iker just laughs.  
  
That night, after Andoni held the conference where he announced his decision, Iker wants to call Ander. They both loved their older teammate, and Ander surely got to know it just by the media, and in Manchester for sure there isn’t someone who can understand how he is feeling. No one there know Andoni as they do.  
But the memory of their last conversation is still fresh and Iker isn’t sure about what to do about it. In the past days, they texted each other, but nothing more than that and nothing really deep, just some update on their lives. Iker think it’s he himself that should make a move, but he doesn’t know how.  
  
After Andoni’s last match in San Mamés, he finds the way. His eyes are still seeing Iraola singing  _Txoria txori_  with all their stadium and he knows that this is the right moment. He isn’t even out of San Mamés and he is already calling Ander.  
«Were you watching?». What a stupid question, for sure Ander has seen it.  
«It has been more than amazing». The ecstatic note in his voice makes Iker tremble a little.  
«Yes. Yes, it has been».  
It seems enough to make them go on and overcome their problems, at least for now.  
  
\-----  
  
The  _Copa del Rey_  is not unusual for Athletic Club. Despite everything, they’ve already won it 24 times in their history, and only Barcelona has won more of them.  
Surely, though, it is kind of a surprise making it to the final. If at the start of the season they were struggling on every front, they had troubles drawing a single match in Champions League (and it was unfair, because they worked so much to get there and they had to kick out Napoli, one of the worst opponents they could find) and in the league it was even worse, well, the national cup has been all another story. The chance to play the final  
  
«If you want to come, I’ll ask for the tickets». Iker’s voice is muffled on the telephone.  
«Iker, I don’t think I can come», answers Ander, a pang of guilt in his voice. He knows how much does this match matters for Iker, how much it would have mattered for him too if it had happened last year.  
«But, Ander... It is your old team, you know everyone of the players, you can’t miss the final! There can be Gurpe with a cup in his hands, and Andoni too, and you can never see again Andoni with a trophy and the Athletic Club shirt at the same time!», whines Iker. This match is the most important thing of the season, more than the Champions League qualifiers too. This is the final of the  _Copa del Rey_ , they really have a chance to win a title this year and to break Luis Enrique’s Barcelona dreams of winning the  _Triplete_. Iker thinks he’d surely give away a kidney to play it. He can already see in his mind the streets of Bilbao full of people, their bus driving among them, he and his teammates above it, showing the trophy and celebrate like they haven’t done for too long.  
«Yeah, I know but... I don’t think I can come to Barcelona».  
«But your season will be already finished!»  
«I think the gaffer wants us to stay here a week more before our holidays and-». Iker sighs prevents Ander from going away with his speech.  
«Yeah, right. I understood. It is just your old team, you have a new one now»  
«Don’t blame this on me, Iker, it’s not my fault. You know I’d surely come if I could, I still love my old teammates and I’d love to see them happy, but this is not the case»  
«Yeah, your old teammates. I forgot now you have your new best friends». Iker doesn’t know why but he feels like hitting Ander the hardest that he can.  
«Don’t bring this on again, Iker». Ander’s reply comes in a harsh voice, and Iker just loses it.  
«What, that you now have your new friends there and you don’t need us anymore?»  
«You know this isn’t true», says back Ander, but in a low voice. What Iker is saying to him is hurting more than anything, because he knows Iker has no reason to feel jealous.  
«You know what, just go with your Juan and your David to your stupid trainings and have a lot of fun together», and before Ander can reply anything, Iker ends the call.  
  
\-----  
  
Juan is upset and Ander doesn’t even have to ask why. He knows, all their teammates can at least guess the reason why their little Spaniard isn’t that chirpy and smiling player he used to be.  
There is some kind of tension in Carrington. Juan tries his best not to be left alone with David, David wants to talk with him but when he has the possibility he just doesn’t know what to say and talks about random things, he stays away from the topic that really matters between them. The fact is, he doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves Manchester United, he has grown up here more than everywhere else, the city and the supporters are amazing, and there are no adjectives good enough to explain all the good that he has found in Juan. But Spain is home, in a way that England will never be, and this is enough to make the difficult the tougher he has ever had to take.  
  
Between them, Ander would like to assure Juan that even if David leaves for Real Madrid, they won’t end their relationship, because at the eyes of someone else their bond looks like too much strong to be broken so easily.  
But he can’t, because he knows what his ex-teammates used to think of him and Iker, and Ander himself thought nothing could crack his feelings for Iker. Yet, their argument is still burning under Ander’s skin, the words that they threw at each other weight him down, and his voice too. He can’t say things that now he knows aren’t true to anyone, to Juan nonetheless.  
He didn’t see this coming at all. Yes, making this work it was a lot difficult, but Ander would have said that it was an experiment going on well. He missed the time he was used to spend with Iker, even when they just laid on the couch, talking about nothing in particular and kissing every time they wanted to do it. He missed the training sessions with him, who always had to prank someone or he wouldn’t be happy, but who always put his heart in everything they had to do. He missed the rush of adrenaline before the match, the knowledge that after a goal Iker would have been by his side, celebrating and hugging him, and sometimes even leaving a kiss to his neck.  
But he has always known that he wouldn’t stay in Bilbao forever. Ander was sure Iker knew this too, but the words he threw at him after the operation weren’t pointing in this direction. He had never thought it were the medicines talking, not really, but it had been easier like this. He knew Iker would have chilled and would have called him, and they would have discussed about it and then made up. He didn’t thought for real, though, that Iker could be jealous of Juan. He could accept the fact that Iker wanted to see him more, because it was exactly what Ander felt too. But Juan, that was another story.  
  
They say that when something like this happens, it is your heart that is breaking, that it falls to pieces.  
Ander disagrees. His heart feels completely ok, it’s the rest of his body that is the problem. If his thoughts linger for a second too much on Iker, he feels like throwing up. If he’s not really concentrated on what he is doing, his mind wander and always go to the younger Basque, and to nothing else. On a rational point of view, he doesn’t want to see Iker’s photos on the internet, but in the reality he finds himself googling his name to see, to search – he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he does it.  
  
\-----  
  
With this goal against Arsenal, Ander has scored 6 times and shot just 7 times. At this point of the season, the 21 on his back has almost erased the 8 he was used to wear, the badge of Manchester United doesn’t weight so much on his chest, while at the start of the season it still seemed impossible that he, Ander Herrera, was really wearing it.  
  
\-----  
  
It’s the night of Manchester United awards, and not even their inner sadness can be held when Louis Van Gaal makes a speech that, everyone is sure, tomorrow will be reported on every newspaper for its genius and madness together. (Probably, there’s drunkenness too, but who cares).  
Ander knows he should be happy, he has had a very good season and tonight he is celebrating with his girlfriend, but nothing can suppress the feeling that something is missing. Not even the memory of what Iker said to him, not even how bad he felt for days after it had happened.  
  
«In Spain you won’t need a translator».  
«Juan...»  
«And no one will mock you for not being able at speaking Spanish».  
«Juan...»  
«Because, you know, your Spanish is perfectly fine».  
David kisses him before Juan can say something else. The midfielder closes his eyes and just let himself melt under the touch of their lips. «What about letting me talk too?».  
Juan nods, not wanting to risk to hear his voice trembling.  
«Spain is my home. It will always be. Actually, it’s  _our_  home, and I’m sure you know what I mean when I say that living there is the thing I’ve always missed more since I left for Manchester».  
«Yes but-». Juan tries to reply, but David doesn’t let him go on: he kisses Juan another time, he kisses him until he feels that Juan won’t say anything else to interrupt him. The midfielder lets him do this, clinging at his jacket with more strength than he intended to.  
«This doesn’t mean I’m not happy here, Juan. Actually, I am, here I have everything I desire». He stops and nearly drowns in the blue of Juan’s eyes that are looking at him big with expectation, as if he is trying to hope too much but wanting it so bad that he can’t resist in giving in. David wants to kiss him once again.  
«It’s not Manchester, it’s not you and it’s not my girlfriend. But I just can’t decide easily on this. It’s something that will change my whole life, whatever I will choose to do».  
David sees his Adam’s apple moving up and then down, and tries hard not to think of what Juan isn’t saying to him, because Juan it is like this, he will never try to influence your decision even if in the end he will suffer. David doesn’t know what he did to deserve such a perfect man in his life, but he thanks everyday that something he doesn’t know.  
«But whatever it will happen, Juan, that won’t change what I feel for you. I don’t think something ever will change it, it’s too strong. Maybe it won’t be the same, but it won’t go away so easily. And I’m sorry if I’m hurting you with my doubts and if I will hurt you with my decision, I really am. I just want you to know that I’m not doing this on purpose and that making this decision is hard for me too».  
David can just wait, now. They’ve never talked openly about it and, even if he knows that he didn’t drop any bomb, that Juan already knew what was going on even if it hadn’t come out of his own mouth, he knows that Juan can’t be entirely happy with what he said.  
Juan doesn’t say anything. He just comes closer to David and hugs him, he gives him one of his hugs, the ones that surely will make you feel better, no matter how low you are feeling. David hopes his arms around the tiny midfielder can give him the same amount of happiness.  
  
\-----  
  
The first thing that Ander wants to do as soon as the referee blows the final whistle, is to phone Iker and just let his words flood all night long, because he is sure his little Basque is more than broken hearted right now. His team has just lost the final against Barcelona, a final they all know was nearly impossible to win, but they all hoped with all their strength to win. He has seen his old teammates on the television and it has been difficult to watch until the end; he can imagine for Iker, who has always given everything to Athletic Club, how bad it has been to be at  _Camp Nou_  and to come home without the trophy.  
  
Iker fidgets with the phone in his hands for long. He tells himself it’s because he is searching for a way to calm himself down without punching something; he knows this might be true, but the real reason is that his fingers search for one name in particular and then his brain stops him from pressing the green button. He watches his teammates on the bus, Andoni talking and talking with the younger players, Aymeric with his head on Ander’s shoulder and both of them blank staring the window, and he feels everything he wants right now is Ander’s voice right next to his ear.  
  
Ander never calls. He wants to, he really does, but he doesn’t do it.  
  
Iker never calls. He keeps on absent-mindedly playing with his phone.  
  
\-----  
  
  
_From: Iker_  
_Where are you?_  
  
_From: Ander_  
_Just landed in Bilbao, why?_  
  
_From: Iker_  
_Shit_  
  
_Incoming call: Ander_  
  
«What’s up? I thought you’d appreciate an unexpected visit». Ander’s tone isn’t angry, but surely he didn’t think to have difficulties even before going out of the airport.  
«So», starts Iker, and then pauses for a few seconds. He can here through the phone the metallic voice of airports that announce the delay of the flight to Madrid. «You’re in Bilbao».  
Ander doesn’t want to, but he lets out a sigh anyway. «Look, I know this isn’t the best moment between us, but I thought that it could be better if we talk face to face instead of with a computer».  
«Actually, I think you’re right».  
It’s Ander moment to keep quiet, because he has sensed something wrong in Iker’s words before, but the younger doesn’t say anything else and Ander doesn’t know what to think. «So, I haven’t quite understood where’s the problem with me in Bilbao».  
«You know, Ander, it is a very great idea. So great and so good, that I had the same idea of yours».  
Ander blinks and doesn’t understand, again. «And...?»  
«And I’m in fucking Manchester, in front of the fucking door of your home and I tried for a quarter of hour to ring the doorbell but no one came out», blurts out Iker.  
Ander bursts out laughing, and for some moments it’s like he has never left Bilbao and Athletic and they’re young and carefree, nothing exists except them.  
«There’s fucking nothing to laugh!», says Iker, who’s not laughing at all but who is liking a lot to hear Ander laughing. He thinks that, whatever will happen, he will never be able to erase this moment from this mind.  
«You’re in Manchester. You came to Manchester». “For me”, Ander wants to add, but he keeps this last but to himself; Iker wrinkles his nose exactly because he didn’t say it.  
«Yes. And I’m still on crutches, it’s raining and I don’t know where to go because you had my same idea».  
«You know, great minds think alike. Listen, I’m calling David and I ask him to take you home with him, while I try my best to find another plane and come back in Manchester as soon as possible».  
«I don’t need to-», tries to say Iker, but Ander is already gone.  
  
It’s been a quite long time since he has last seen David, it’s been Christmas when they last hanged out together. Christmas. It seems ages ago, when he could convince Ander to give up whatever he wanted to do just with a kiss on his neck. He wasn’t even a father back there, and he didn’t know how much his heart could be warmed by the touch of the little fingers of his son that clutch his shirt and then it’s hard to make him let it go. How even a football match becomes less interesting if in his arms there is his son sleeping, and he finds himself lost in following the soft lines of his face.  
«At my place there is Juan too, I hope you don’t mind, but I had already asked him to have lunch with me».  
«No problem at all», answers Iker, faster than how he intended too.  
And it’s true that it’s not a problem; he knows Juan just a little but he is a kind man, this he has understood. It’s that the thought of the Asturian reminds him of the stupid reasons he brought up against Ander, and it makes him feel sick. He has come to Manchester but he still doesn’t know what to say to him; he just knows he has to talk with Ander, because the pain he feels from the unresolved tension between them is driving him crazy.  
  
The realization hits Iker right in the head, while he watches David hovering around Juan in a way he has never seen before from his friend.  
It’s not the fact that his jealousy hadn’t a single reason to exist: he knows he has spoken more out of frustration that on the real fear of losing Ander because of Juan, and he’ll never say to himself enough times how fool he has been. And also, the way Juan seems to lighten up everything around him when he makes that smile he only has for David, could leave no doubts.  
No, it’s something different.  
  
Ander arrives when it’s already night, a bit messed up because well, two planes in a day aren’t exactly like a stroll in a park, even if it’s not a long flight from Bilbao to Manchester. While they were waiting for him, the three Spaniards decided to watch a movie, but it was clear that no one of them was really watching it, with Iker too nervous because of the fact that it was definitely the time to talk with Ander.  
«It’s better if we leave you two alone here», says David and takes Juan’s hand to bring him to himself.  
«David, it’s your home, I don’t want to kick you away...», starts Ander, but it’s Juan that interrupts him.  
«I forgot something important at home, and David is just going to give me a lift», says the midfielder with a wink. They all know it isn’t true, but Ander just has no time to say it, because the couple has already left the room.  
  
«So, you’ve come to Manchester and I know pretty well you can’t stand this city».  
«It’s not true, I have beautiful memories of us winning here», replies Iker, and he can’t help remembering Ander the match they won here that brought them to the final. «Actually, it’s not the city that I couldn’t stand».  
Ander raises an eyebrow. «No?»  
«No. It’s what this city meant to me that I hated. The fact that I associated Manchester with you being away from me, with you getting famous and winning and probably forgetting me».  
«I didn’t win anything this year».  
«Ander», whines Iker, and the older one can’t help smiling a little at that tone. He’s never been good at resisting him when Iker speaks in this way.  
«You used the past tense», it’s the only thing that Ander says.  
«Yeah. Because... You know, I’m always going to miss you and all the things we used to share, even the most useless one like commenting talent shows after training or you squeezing the toothpaste at the centre knowing that I hate so much that thing. But this doesn’t mean I can keep you bound to me and my expectations. When you were leaving I told you that everything was ok, but I realized during the season that it wasn’t, because I always waited for you to do something and you didn’t fit my thoughts. And this got me angry without me even knowing, I had trouble accepting that things were going to be different from what I wanted in my mind. And I didn’t want this to happen, maybe because I feared that you were slipping away from me. But I don’t want this to happen anymore»  
Ander looks at him, puzzled. He can’t guess where this speech is going to end, but all that Iker has just said has been heart-warming: knowing that he hasn’t been the only one who feared all the season to lose an important person makes him feel loved.  
«Because if I keep you bound to me, and I don’t let you become the person you’re becoming, you still won’t be the man I fell in love with anymore, because it doesn’t work like this. You’ll change either way, just in a way you won’t like too, and you’ll feel bad. So... I wanted you to know that the most important thing to me, right now, is setting you free to be who you are, with whoever you want to stay».  
«What are you talking about, Iker?»  
«Just... You’re free. You’re free to be who you want to be without me trying to keep you like this, trying to not make you change. You know what they say, no? “If you love somebody, let them go...”». Iker thought that saying this out loud would have helped him feeling lighter, without the burden of the things he wanted to say to Ander, but it’s not. Maybe it’s not the same bad feeling he is having, but for sure he isn’t happy now.  
«Iker», says Ander, and his tone is so warm that the younger Basque lifts his eyes to see an expression he’s never seen before on Ander’s face; some strong kind of emotion is clearly showing. «Iker, you... You’re... I can’t believe what you’re saying. As if I could want to go somewhere if I knew that you weren’t supporting me. And honestly, I don’t think I want to go somewhere else now that I’m finding my balance in Manchester».  
Iker opens his mouth to say something, but he realizes he doesn’t know what he wanted to say. Instead, he sees Ander coming closer to him, his eyes never leaving his own as if they were asking for a permission. Iker nods slightly and closes his eyes while Ander brushes his lips against his own, always slightly chapped. Iker opens them and lets the familiar feeling of Ander kissing him wash him, fill him; if he think of how much near he has been to never feel this anymore, he wants to cry. He knows he was missing Ander; he doesn’t know he was missing him this much, so much that his hands run and cling to Ander’s shirt as if there was nothing else that mattered in the world.  
«You don’t need to let go of me to know that I’m forever yours», whispers Ander while he showers Iker’s face of little kisses. Iker thinks his ribcage is being opened, because his heart his beating so violently that he can’t think his chest can contain it any longer.  
  
It won’t be this easy. They both know that this won’t be enough to erase all that happened between them, and that maybe erasing it wouldn’t even be fair. They sit on the couch and talk, talk and talk, of everything that comes to their mind, of all the things that they would have said to each other in the time they weren’t talking. They fill each other with information and kisses and sweet nothings, and maybe it won’t be enough to make it work in the future forever, but at the moment it feels it’s the right thing to do.  
  
The bird to whom he can’t break a wing is Ander, it has always been him and will be from now on. Iker knows, finally.  
  
\-----  
  
When David and Juan are back home, they find Ander and Iker cuddling on the sofa, both asleep, probably won by the tiredness and the emotions of the day.  
«Well, see them tomorrow», says Juan, a warm smile on his lips that mirrors the one that there is on David’s ones.  
«I’m not making breakfast for us all, anyway», muffles David, slinging an arm around Juan’s waist, and holding him close. Juan lets the sensation of warm and of home spreading in his chest.


End file.
